OBT Forum

One gripe: it's 'booby trap' not 'bobby trap'

Fixed.

MA

Can't wait for more!

Seyla This is great

Aff, fantastic work.

Elizabeth Hazen scanned the horizon through her high-powered binoculars as she lay flat on her stomach.  The CRUMP of a distant explosion made her pivot and zoom in on the distant cliff face, where she saw a cloud of dust arising, and the sheer rock face collapsed.  And then out of the dust cloud emerged ‘Mechs, scores—hundreds—of them, and all painted in the green-and-gray field camo of the Star League Defense Force.

She lowered the binoculars and activated the homing beacon she had carried.

When she looked back up, she saw a single ‘Mech break off from the rest and advance towards her hide.  Even without the binocs she could make out the angular missile rack on its right shoulder and cylindrical lasers and missile tubes that comprised its forearms.  It was definitely an Orion.  She stood and pulled off her ghillie cloak as it ran up and came to a halt less than thirty feet away.

But then she blinked in amazement.  Someone had welded metal plates to the outer surface.  And u-clamps.  And clinging to these u-clamps, standing precariously balanced on the plates, were four infantry troopers in Nighthawk armor!  My god, she thought.  Such a simple idea, why didn’t we think about that before the Coup?

As the Orion came to a halt, the cockpit opened, and the infantry fire-team dismounted—their jump jets flaring as the suits of powered armor landed around her.  “Colonel Hazen?,” a distorted voice said from within one of the faceless suits of armor.  “I was told you would need this, ma’am,” the trooper said as he handed her a bundle.  A cooling suit—an SLDF cooling suit.  She nodded and shrugged out of her clothes as the infantry kept watch on the horizon, and pulled the cooling suit on, buckling the belt tight and adjusting the tension straps and chest armor for a close fit.  She cleared her throat and cocked her head, patting the empty holster under her left arm.

She could hear muffled laughter, and then one of the infantry pulled out a pistol and a knife, and handed them both to her.  She holstered the pistol and sheathed the knife in one of the cooling boots.  And then the infantry stepped up close, put his arms around, and said “Hang on.”

His jump jets fired, and Elizabeth grinned as they landed atop the missile box.  The infantry helped her down to the cockpit, and then the four of them remounted the Orion.

In the ‘Mech’s cockpit, the command seat was vacant, but another SLDF officer sat in the jump seat.

“Ma’am, Captain Absalom Truscott, Royal Black Watch Regiment.  I’ve been assigned as your aide; the jump seat has been refitted with a command console, so I’ve got comm and sensors for you.”

“Call me Liz,” she said with a grin as she sat down and buckled in, sealing the cockpit hatch behind her.  She began to scan the controls, and then she started.  The bloody thing was a ROYAL Orion!  She grinned.  “So, what’s the plan, Captain Truscott?”

“Call me, Absalom, Liz.  General Marik is going to hammer the Rim Worlds Army hard—but we, the Regiment and few supporting units—WE are going to chop the head off this snake.  Unity City and the Court of the Star League is OUR objective, Liz.  And ma’am, the First Lord himself gave orders that you were calling the shots.”

Liz’s head whipped around.  “I’m a CAPTAIN for God’s sake!  And I haven’t been in a ‘Mech for TWO BLOODY YEARS!’

“And you are the senior surviving officer of the Old Black Watch, Colonel Hazen.  Or are you refusing this command opportunity?  I can raise Colonel Moreau—he was a mere Captain before the Coup as well.”

Liz drew in a deep breath, and she shook her head.  “Patch me into the Regiment,” she said as she pushed the Orion forward into a lopping run.

“Frequency open, ma’am.   And waypoints to the Court are logged in your nav-comp.”

“BLACK WATCH ACTUAL,” she called out, “this is . . . what the hell is my call sign, Absalom?”

“Ghost, ma’am.  Black Watch Ghost.”

She paused and then she nodded.  “This is Black Watch Ghost.  Form ‘em up and move ‘em out.  We’ve got ourselves a traitor to kill.”

   Wow!  Can't wait to read more!!

Jan Timmons frowned at the holographic projection table in the center of his Field Headquarters.  Finally he shook his head in disbelief.  “There is a tunnel through the Cascades that we were unaware of?”

No one answered the Rim General, and he lowered his head.  “Very well, gentlemen.  We need to redeploy immediately to stop this penetration.  Hakim, get the 54th moving and set up a blocking position here,” he ordered laying his hand on a low ridge between the HQ and the oncoming tsunami of Star League units.  “Pete, I want XI and XIV Corps to leave a division each to watch their assigned passes—we’ll use them to hammer this advance once Hakim’s Dragoons slow them down.  Brigadier Shault, your command is to immediately move out and support the 54th.”

“Internal Security does not answer to the Regular Army, Jan,” Amanda Shault said acidly.  “And I am not going to throw away the cream of our fighting arm doing your job.”

Jan stared at the defiant woman for a moment, and then nodded.  “Sergeant Major, take Brigadier Shault outside and shoot her.  Colonel Mackey,” he said to her second in command.  “Do you have a problem with following my orders?”

The senior IntSec officer snarled, but two of the HQ military police grabbed and hauled her outside as she screamed in fury and terror.  “You can’t do this!  I am INTERNAL SECURITY!  I am the one who has people shot—you can’t do . . .”

CRACK.

“Colonel Mackey, I am waiting for your answer.”

The IntSec officer, his face covered with a sheen of sweat, snapped to attention and saluted crisply.  “We will get underway at once, Sir!” he barked.

Jan nodded, and the officer quickly left the briefing room.

“Sir,” his aide said quietly.  “We need authorization from Unity City to pull those troops off the line.”

“Look at the map, Paul.  Their main body is heading here—which means they know we have the detonation codes for the mines in the passes.  But this element,” and he highlighted a smaller body moving quickly across country.  He then drew a blazing red line upon their route of advance—a line that end directly at the Imperial Palace.  “I don’t think Command Authority will mind us taking the initiative, this once.”

“The 54th, even with IntSec’s Stormtroopers in support can’t stop them, Sir.  And it will take two hours for the reinforcements to arrive.”

“I know, Paul.  That’s why we are saddling up.  I want every man who can carry a rifle in the field preparing defense positions—and we will be taking the field as well.  Right now, we can’t afford for a single ‘Mech or tank to stay out of the fight.”

*****************************************************

Jarl Halvin slow crawled through the duct work of the ventilation system, the remainder of DEST Team Six following him slowly.  Penetrating the Rim defensive perimeter had been child’s play, but the automated anti-intrusion defenses and alarms had proven much more difficult.  Even with the blue-prints that the SLDF had given him.  Still, despite being an hour behind schedule, he had finally cleared the last of the obstacles.  Pushing a fiber-optic cable equipped with a spy-cam through the grating, the commando watched the display as he rotated it.  All clear.

He removed the grating and silently dropped down to the corridor below.  One by one, the members of his team followed, and then they began to advance down the long hallway.  They did encounter several roaming guards, but this deep in the heart of the Olympic SDS complex, the guards were not expecting trouble—and they were far from Amaris’s best.  They stood no chance, and not one survived long enough to raise an alarm.

Once again using the fiber-optic spy-eye, he peered around the final bend and spotted the two guards standing outside the—open, OPEN!—blast doors of the central control room.  He relayed the information to his team through simple sign language, and then counted to three.

Rising from his crouch, he turned the corner, just as team-mates cut down the two guards with needler fire.  And Jarl walked straight into the command center of the SDS facility.  One of the techs looked up and began to scream, but the commando’s katana flashed out and severed the man’s head.

Everyone else simply looked up in shock.

“This facility is now under MY control, gentlemen.  Does anyone have a problem with this?  No.  Good.  Shut down the weapon systems and kill the fusion plants.  And if anyone tries to raise an alarm, I will kill all of you.”

Slowly, bank after bank showing the massive concentration of anti-space and anti-fighter weaponry went dark.  And Jarl smiled behind his mirrored visor.  “Excellent.  Liam, send the update to Fleet.”

*****************************************************

“First Lord,” Admiral Matasuke said with a bow.  “All DEST teams report the capital SDS facilities are now offline.”

“Thank you, Hideki.  Gerald, inform Captain McNeil that she is now authorized to land the landing force.  And have my DropShip prepped for launch.”

Gerald Howe frowned, but he nodded, and bent low over the comm station.  Stephen turned to face Hiroyoshi and Admiral Matasuke.  “Would the heir to the Dragon care to join me?  If, that is, Admiral Matasuke would be willing to keep an eye on my daughter?”  And her hoard of Nighthawk armored guardians, he thought.

“Hai,” answered Hiroyoshi with a smile.  Hideki Matasuke merely bowed once more, although his stern face betrayed the barest hint of a grin.

“Are you sure this is what we should be doing?  I heard that neither the First Lord or Kerensky want to see nukes going off on the surface like firecrackers?” Reuben asked Antonius Zalman and his two hefty henchmen as they relaxed on sofa seats and gobbled up popcorn.  A massive wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling video screen was showing an infrared projection of a two hundred mile area surrounding the tunnel exit.

“Reuben, come now,” Antonius answered smoothly.  “Have they given any specific orders to us to that effect?”

“We haven’t been given instructions other than to sit tight!”

“Exactly.  Special Intelligence is mandated to do whatever it takes to protect the Realm, Reuben.  Even if that entails doing things that the First Lord Stephen Cameron or General the Lord Regent Kerensky don’t want done.  Ah, it has begun.  Penny dear?”

“Yes, Antonius?”

“Armed the weapons, please.”

“Armed and ready:  can we kill some Amaris pigs now?  Can we?  Please?”

“Of course, my dear.  You may send the command when ready.”

On the screen, five star-bright flares erupted in the center of Rim formations just beginning to pull out of their defensive fortifications and redeploy to meet the Star League penetration into their perimeter.

Penny gave a squeal—one that sounded remarkably close to an orgasm.

“I’d offer you a smoke, Penny, girl, but I am afraid of where you would tell me to stick it.”

“Rim casualties are projected as heavy,” the AI purred.  “Civilians in the blast radius:  zero.  Or as close to zero as I can compute.  And was it good for you as well, old man?”

“Ah, Penny, my love.  It was glorious.”

*****************************************************

“Why are my SDS guns not firing on them!” Stefan Amaris shouted, as hundreds upon hundreds of additional DropShips began to land in a perimeter surrounding Unity City.

The staff blanched, but finally, one tech stood.  “Sire, we have lost communication with all of the SDS facilities.  There are unconfirmed reports of gunfire between the IntSec guards and an unknown force within each base.”

Stefan’s jaw worked and his face flushed a deeper shade of red.  “OUT!  All of you useless failures GET OUT!” he screamed.

Quickly, the grateful staff hurried from the room, leaving only Gunthar and Stefan.  “Can we still get to the submersible, Gunthar?”

“No, sire.  They are landing just outside the shipyards—we would never get through.”

Stefan nodded.  “In that case, Colonel von Strang, I want you to take the 18th Chasseurs—your Death’s Head Regiment—and do what you can to hold them back.  I have some final preparations to make to greet the First Lord of the Star League.  Kerensky and Kurita as well.”

Gunthar bowed lowed.  “I have failed you, my Lord.”

“Oh, Gunthar.  You, my right arm, have never failed me.  Perhaps we moved too quickly, we might should have waited another decade or so for the rot to set in.  Still,” the Emperor mused.  “If we had killed Stephen Cameron at the start of this, if he had died with his family here.  Perhaps we might have won anyway.  It was fate, Gunthar.  But there remains one possibility that I might serve to free the peoples of the Inner Sphere from this yoke of the Star League.  Now go, old friend.  I must make myself ready to greet Stephen Cameron.”

*****************************************************

The noose of ‘Mech and myomers, of blood and steel, that the Star League and its member states drew close around the capital city.  And then it began to tighten.

*****************************************************

“My lord Kurita,” the radio crackled.  “Another unit is moving to intercept the Black Watch.  Radio intercepts indicate it is the 18th Amaris Chasseurs—and voice ID confirms von Strang is in command.”

So, the man whose hands had killed Drago and his family, the man who had spilt Kurita blood was here.  Minoru closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm.  “All units are to disengage.  Otomo—FOLLOW ME.”

Ahead of his Dragon, Minoru could just make out the faint shapes of the ash-gray Death’s Head regiment, each ‘Mech painted with a grinning skull.  Although known as Chasseurs, the 18th was no light regiment—it was comprised almost completely of heavy- and assault-class machines.  And the bone-white Atlas that led them was von Strang’s own ‘Mech.  Minoru brought his lighter Dragon to a halt, and the Otomo formed up around him, the rest of the Kurita division fanning out behind him.

“Gunthar von Strang,” he broadcast.  “I am Minoru Kurita.  I give you the opportunity to surrender now and pay for your crimes with your life.”

“My life you will have to earn the hard way, Dragon.”

“So be it, von Strang.  For my kin, killed by your hand in the Court of the Star League; for my SONS who died at the bequest of your master on Saffel and Luthien; for the citizens of the Combine whom you and yours have slaughtered with cowardly attacks from hiding; I shall have you!  I SHALL END YOU!  SAMURAI OF THE COMBINE—BANZAI!”

And the Kuritans—all ten regiments of them—charged as though they were men possessed.

*****************************************************

Nearly one thousand BattleMechs charged down upon the outnumbered Chasseurs.  However, except for a handful of assault designs such as the BattleMaster piloted by Vincent Kurita, the Combine’s ‘Mechs were very light compared to the Royal ‘Mechs of the Chasseurs. 
Gunthar and his men piloted.  And despite the difference in firepower and armor, the samurai followed their leader in that fierce charge.  Missile flights were launched, autocannon bursts roared out, laser beams slashed through the air, followed by high-powered bolts screaming downrange from the barrels of PPCs.

‘Mechs on both sides of the lines exploded under the impact of these weapons, but now the Chasseurs too charged forward, and both lines collided.  And in the center of that fight, Gunthar von Strang and Minoru Kurita squared off.

*****************************************************

Minoru hammered his opponent, heavier by forty tons of armor and weapons, and he danced lightly around the assault class machine.  His autocannon cratered armor, his missiles dug out divots, his lasers burned through plate after plate—but it wasn’t enough.  The Atlas had been designed for exactly this type of a fight, and its thick armor was nearly as heavy as an entire Locust.  Gunthar’s missiles, more than twice as many, ripped through the air in reply, along with his lasers, and then his mighty autocannon—four times as powerful as Minoru’s barked in staccato succession.  And the Dragon crumpled as the heavy slugs tore into one hip.

The Otomo rushed to get to their lord’s side, but the Death’s Head Chasseurs held them back for precious seconds, even as Vincent Kurita pushed his BattleMaster’s engine beyond the red line.  Gunthar von Strang walked over above the shattered ‘Mech that held the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine and he raised his foot high—and then Minoru rolled his Dragon to one knee, grabbed that massive foot with his sole hand actuator, and pushed with all the might of his myomer muscles!

The mighty Atlas toppled backwards, and the Dragon rose, even as Gunthar tried to shake the impact from his foggy brain.  Minoru leveled the right arm autocannon directly over the cockpit, and he held the trigger down tight.  Sparks flew as the armor deflected the first shell, and then the second, but as the stream continued on and on and the barrel began to glow white from the heat, the rounds finally penetrated, tearing through the grinning skull and burying themselves in the soil beneath it.  The Otomo and Vincent finally broke through the last of the defenders, but there too late, for a second before his own death, a Chasseur Victor swiveled and fired his own massive autocannon directly into the cockpit of the Coordinator.

*****************************************************

“MINORU!” Vincent Kurita screamed as the Dragon’s cockpit exploded.  He pushed forward, straining the massive 85-ton war machine as it reached speeds the designers had never intended.  Ignoring the heat spike, he fired every weapon, from the Donal PPC in the right arm to the banks of massed medium lasers, the short-range missile launcher, the twin machine-guns, and then Vincent lowered his shoulder and slammed into the Victor, knocking it down and running it over.  He turned, but his foe was dead.

Slowly, the Otomo gathered around the fallen Dragon, and silence reigned over the battlefield.  Six of the Coordinator’s guards slowly lifted the fallen ‘Mech, resting it on their shoulders, and began the long march back to their DropShip, a DropShip that would return a fallen Coordinator home to battered Luthien.

The rest of the survivor’s—all of the survivor’s of the Sword of Light and the Otomo—stood silent as the tomb of their Lord marched past.  And then Vincent opened his radio channels.  “We will mourn our fallen later; we shall mourn the passing of the Dragon when this is finished!  Samurai!  We have a date with destiny.”

And following their new Dragon—not young, no, but wise and experienced—the samurai of the Combine began to march once more on Unity City.